


Coming to Term

by Canadiantardis



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Dysphoria, Fluff, M/M, One Shot, Pregnancy, Trans Character, Trans Morality | Patton Sanders, baby logan, it is mostly fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-16
Updated: 2019-11-16
Packaged: 2021-02-07 09:44:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,013
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21455992
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Canadiantardis/pseuds/Canadiantardis
Summary: As the due date inches closer, Patton can't help but think about the past nine months.
Relationships: Anxiety | Virgil Sanders/Morality | Patton Sanders
Comments: 16
Kudos: 89





	Coming to Term

Patton knew he’d have days like this, and he wasn’t one to curse often, but damn

Dysphoria was a  _ bitch. _

He turned his body away from the mirror and all he could focus on was the swollen belly, his little kiddo kicking a funky beat that did nothing to settle the pit of  _ wrong _ in his stomach. He was wearing too many feminine things. Padded bra, maternity dress because pants - and even skirts on his non-dysphoric days - could not stay in place, and he could just see all the parts of himself he still had not enough money to fix.

And with a child baking in the oven, he had to wait until after he gave birth, which sent a whole other thrill of dread flooding through him.

Patton tore his eyes from his belly in the mirror, a hand absently rubbing the taut skin comfortingly. He couldn’t stress over self-hate. Bad for the baby, and it wasn’t like he could just abort it at this point. Almost full-term, he would have to wait until the date they set to go to the hospital, or for his water to break.

He still hated how wrong he felt in his own skin, amplified for the past nine months.

Pulling down the dress again, he waddled out of the bathroom and into the master bedroom where his boyfriend lay, reading. Eyes peered over the book, mismatched irises looking at him in concern.

“Come to bed. You look exhausted.” Virgil put a bookmark on the page he got to and shut the book, reaching for Patton.

“They’ve decided to become a kick-boxer today.” He laughed breathlessly as he made his way to Virgil and the bed. “Wouldn’t calm down until I played some MCR. Truly your child.”

“Good taste. Truly mine.” His boyfriend nodded sagely, wrapping his arms around Patton’s middle as he carefully settled on the bed. “Which album did they like this time?”

_ “Three Cheers for Sweet Revenge. _ They seemed to like  _ Give ‘Em Hell, Kid _ a lot.” Patton all but flopped against Virgil’s chest, enjoying the warmth the slight man exuded.

“Wow, old school.” Virgil whistled airily, nuzzling the back of Patton’s head. “You doing okay?”

“Yeah, just… You know, tired.” Patton took one of Virgil’s hands hostage, twining their fingers. “Very tired.”

“Only a week left, then you can probably sleep for a month.” Lips press against his hair and then graze his neck. “You’ve been doing so well.”

Patton chuckled. “You have been too, V.”

It was true. Over the past nine months, Virgil had really stepped up. The two had only been together for half a year before Patton started getting the morning sickness. He had been terrified of what would happen, how it would affect both his mental state, and Virgil.

He remembered how he had sat on the toilet, staring at the positive result, unsure of how much time had passed before suddenly Virgil’s legs were in his periphery, and suddenly every swear in existence - and then some new combinations - was uttered in less than a minute, hands cupping Patton’s face, and he realized it wasn’t a daydream, nor a nightmare, nor any imagined event. It was real. And neither knew what would happen.

It had taken some time for either to decide what they wanted to do. Both knew how much Patton wanted a family, but were they stable enough? Mentally and financially? What if it fucked with Patton’s dysphoria? What if one of them suddenly lost their job? What if this, what if that-

After a few GP appointments, and meeting with Patton’s therapist the week after they found out, the couple felt like, maybe, they could give it a try.

At the beginning, besides the morning sickness and other symptoms - Patton felt tired a lot faster, and headaches would force him to retreat to a quiet room for several minutes - everything went on as usual. Virgil panicked over every little thing and had quickly baby-and-Patton-proofed the apartment despite it only having been a month into the pregnancy.

Then it came to finding doctors. Patton hated it, having remembered how long it took to find a GP that was trans-friendly. The first question he would ask the receptionist before even making an appointment would be if the doctor would treat him.

Sadly, most of those conversations for a good couple of weeks were negatives or he would get hung up on. Patton and Virgil had to work together with Dr. Picani, Patton’s therapist, to find a suitable obstetrician. They found one by the name Dr. Ceit, who seemed to be the best obstetrician for the small queer community in town. He was very professional, and his staff seemed practiced to accommodate Patton. As the days became months, and his body and hormones changed, he thanked every and any known deity for the little clinic.

For the most part, Patton had been able to ignore the social dysphoria when he started to show. Some people would give him weird stares on the street. Pregnant women would approach him, some looking righteously angry, others curious, and a few sympathetic. The sympathetic and a few of the curious moms-to-be were very accepting of him, which relieved him to no end, and they would often all complain about the pains of pregnancy.

“Oh I hate it. I need to pee like, constantly.” A young soon-to-be-mother complained at a pregnancy class Patton had started to go to at the recommendation of Dr. Ceit. Her swollen belly had her sitting on one of the more cushy chairs. “My routine’s become, like, wake up, pee, eat breakfast, pee, nap, pee, eat lunch, watch tv, pee.”

There was a wave of agreement and laughter from the other women.

“Do you keep books or something to read in the bathroom, now?” One of the leaders of the group asked the young woman.

“No, but I should, I practically live in the bathroom now.” She rubbed her belly in circles.

Patton looked at his small bump as a wave of nausea hit him. While the classes were helpful, being called a ‘mother’ and everything maternal sent him spiralling, even if it was more collective than any of the women in the class were singling him out by calling him specifically a ‘mom-to-be’.

His dysphoria hit as the bump grew in size that he could barely wear pants. To fight it, he would normally wear the over-sized hoodies Virgil had to drown out the feminine curves he had until he looked like a little blob with twig legs and arms. On his good days, he’d attempt to simply wear formless maternity dresses.

As the days slowly grew closer to the due date, Patton had to make plans for what he was going to do after the birth. His parents had always been supportive of his decisions, and had been so happy-slash-worried when he told them he was expecting.

“But what about when…” Patton’s mother had gestured to her stomach growing bigger, a concerned expression staring at her son. “Are you going to be alright?”

Patton remembered how Virgil wrapped his arms around his waist with his chin resting on Patton’s shoulder, how he nodded following the warmth the slight man radiated from behind. “I’ve got support. That’ll be more than enough.”

And it was. For every moment he spiralled in dysphoria, Virgil, his parents, Virgil’s mother, Dr. Picani, Dr. Ceit, and even a good portion of the pregnancy classes were there to help him every inch of the way. He was never alone, and he was very thankful for that.

A firm kiss against his neck brought Patton out of his head, and he tilted to expose more for his boyfriend, giggling.

“What did we decide, again?” He asked, leaning his head back to rest partially on the pillow and mostly on Virgil’s shoulder. “Name, I mean.”

“Logan.” Virgil’s breath tickled his neck. “Logan Peyton Sanders, regardless of whatever sex they’re born as.”

The two had decided against learning the sex. They had no need to know. Too many norms and expectations would be placed on the kid before they were even born, and neither wanted to start thinking about that. When he had told the other expecting parents at the classes, a few even wholeheartedly agreed.

“Right. Logan.” Patton hummed. “Can’t wait to actually be able to hold the kiddo, and… you know.”

“Yeah. Just another week.” Several pecks along the exposed neck made Patton giggle, and he could feel the lips curled in a soft smile.

* * *

The birth went without a problem. Patton was induced, given his epidural, and could only remember a dull pain that flared with every push he was told to make.

Virgil held his hand, but he couldn’t tell who was holding the other’s more tightly. Patton would have found it funny how faint his boyfriend looked if he hadn’t been currently delivering a child.

Dr. Ceit talked him through the contractions, a hand on his knee until the contractions grew closer and he had to prepare the room for the baby.

It took about two hours, or so Patton was told after. It felt like it had been both shorter and infinitely longer. Time seemed weird.

“It’s a boy.” A nurse suddenly appeared with a bundle, and despite feeling like he had done several marathons without stopping, Patton zeroed in on the dark fuzz poking out of the blanket.

A wave of emotions slammed into him the moment he laid eyes on Logan’s face, and he was crying before he even realized it. After a quick instruction on how to hold a baby - he had been taught during the classes, but nothing in the past seemed important to recall in that moment - the nurse handed him over, and it took every ounce of willpower in Patton not to squeeze the delicate being he had spent nine months cooking.

Realizing just how fragile Logan was sent Patton into a panic, words stumbling over themselves as he twisted his head around for help, despite laying down with his arms protectively surrounding the bundle.

Virgil kissed his cheek, cupping his face and spoke to him but nothing processed. He understood the tone, and the affection in his eyes spoke louder than anything his mouth could.

Once the hands pulled away from his face, Patton’s gaze dropped back down to the bundle in his arms. A patch of dark hair at the top of his head, fat, chubby cheeks dark red, and eyes shut tightly. He wasn’t asleep, and looked rather angry, like he didn’t want to be outside the womb just yet.

The thought had him chuckle wetly, a confusion of emotions building in his chest until it felt fit to burst. All the stress, all the bad looks, all the long nights of near torturous dysphoria, all the ups and downs, all of it for the little -  _ gosh he was so little, was he this small when his mom gave birth, was Virgil this small?? _ \- creation in his arms.

“Hello, Logan.” Virgil cooed softly by his side, a shaking finger - Patton just noticed how shaky Virgil was, it looked like he was in the middle of an earthquake - gently, carefully brushing the top of little Logan’s head, as if he was afraid of hurting their son.

Patton let out a sob/laugh, tears spilling down his face. “Don’t look so mad, kiddo.” He joked, pulling the bundle closer to his face, and kissed his fat cheeks as lightly as possible. “It’s okay.”

The nurse had to take Logan away to properly finish with everything, and to let Patton finally rest. Dr. Ceit came forward soon after their son left the room.

“So the name’s set on Logan?” He asked with an amused smile.

“Yeah.” Virgil cleared his throat when so much emotion overtook the simple word. “Uh, yeah. Logan Peyton Sanders.”

“Good name. I’m sure you’ll both make great dads.” The doctor looked over Patton’s face. “But you won’t need to worry about that for now. Rest, Mr. Sanders. And again, congratulations.”

**Author's Note:**

> This story is part of the [LLF Comment Project](https://longlivefeedback.tumblr.com/llfcommentproject), which was created to improve communication between readers and authors. This author invites and appreciates feedback, including:  
Feedback
> 
>   * Short comments
>   * Long comments
>   * Questions
>   * Constructive criticism
>   * "<3" as extra kudos
>   * Reader-reader interaction
> 
> This author replies to comments.  
As this is the first time I've actually written a character with dysphoria, I'd really appreciate knowing if I wrote it well or not!


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